Moments
by ce'bronne
Summary: A retelling of BBC's Sherlock. Some canon divergence as well as slightly AU. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Prologue: Mycroft's letter

_Authors note: This is my first ever fanfiction so please bear with me, I'm still figuring this out. Story is un-beta'd so all faults lie with me, I hope I caught all grammatical and punctuational errors. If anyone reads this and wishes to beta drop me a line. _

_Also I Do Not own Sherlock, related characters and or plotlines. Etc., etc., etc., and so forth._

Mycroft,

Well my friend, if you're reading this then I am dead. I have left instructions that if events do not go according to plan then you should receive this letter and the enclosed flash drive. I suppose you could consider this my last will and testament, so to speak. With that in mind I guess I should just go ahead and confess, I have always loved you. Yes I can hear you now blah blah blah sentiment blah blah blah... and yet that doesn't change the fact that I ...can't keep up this charade... oh how I wish I could see your face. I'd apologize but I wouldn't mean it, I truly enjoy tweaking your nose.

However in all seriousness, the flash drive does contain the debriefing reports from my latest assignment, as well as some new found intelligence that I thought you might be interested in. I'll give you the highlights seeing as how much you dislike reading my reports:

1. James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran are no more.

2. I've dug up the roots of Moriarty's network. You might remind Sherlock next time that cutting the branches only prunes the tree, it won't kill it.

3. More importantly, I'm retiring.

Yes, Mycroft, Retiring. Don't bother sending anyone looking for me... they won't be returning if you do. I'm confident between the two Holmes brothers you will manage to deduce why I've chosen now to retire.

With that said please take care of yourself. Give my best to Sherlock, John, and Mary.

Sandrine


	2. The sniper and the criminal

_Author's note: I would like to give a shout out to my wonderful Beta thischarmingpsycopath. If you haven't read her stories yet, I'd take the time to do so if I were you. It'll be well worth your time. Anyway onto the disclaimer:_

_I don't own Sherlock or any of the characters . etc. and so forth._

_Anyway I hope you enjoy. _

The sniper's needs were simple really. An empty rooftop. A bolt action Remington M24 loaded with .300 magnum cartridges. Oh, and a target. Nothing made Sebastian Moran happier.

Of course it wasn't really the killing that made the sniper happy. It was the chase. Finding and tracking down an elusive target made Sebastian feel alive.

But killing; killing was something to be done in the blank white static-filled room of Sebastian's mind. Where the mess of it couldn't touch the sniper.

It had taken only a few short months in the sniper profession for Sebastian to realize the necessity of the static emptiness. The room kept the assassin free from the emotional tangle killing wrought within. The job just couldn't be done when you were an emotional mess.

And so... when the chase was done, when the hunter flushed out the prey; Sebastian entered that corner room of white. Click. Fwiip.

One more name to add to the list.

James Moriarty stood with Kontar Gul, an Afghani opium dealer and two of his men. They were currently negotiating for Jim's assistance in dealing with his Burman counterpart. Or rather James was dictating the terms of said assistance and Kontar was nodding silently in agreement.

"Oh and do make sure that my money is wired into the account I've given you by the end of today. It won't be pleasant for you if its not" smirked James, his lilt barely noticeable. "Then again, it has been Boring recently... I could use some entertainment." At this Kontar visibly paled.

"I assure you, you'll have your money within the hour." Kontar ground out, right before a rose of blood blossomed upon his breast. With a grunt he slumped to the floor of the warehouse followed quickly by his henchmen, each sporting a similar circle of crimson.

James looked upon the growing pool of blood and growled in anger. "Weeks of planning rendered useless" He muttered to himself. " Somebody's going to pay." he finished in a singsong voice. Pulling out his cell, he quickly dialed. " Kontar is dead. Someone has just cost me several hundred thousand pounds. I want to know who. FIND them."

Barely glancing at his former client, James exited the warehouse. Planning his next move with a whistle and a smile on his lips. At the very least it seemed as if he wasn't going to be bored for a while.


	3. An official mess

A/n : Want to start off by thanking my absolutely wonderful beta thischarmingpsycopath, I don't know what I'd do without her input. So thank you. Also many thanks to those who have followed/favorite/reviewed/or even just read, without you there is no point to writing. And finally the usual disclaimer I do not own Sherlock or it's characters, then again neither does the BBC. After all, all stories are Anansi's.

Sandrine Dumorte was lounging around Mycroft Holmes's office. Drinking a cup of tea as she waited for the man himself to turn up. Idly she wondered what the hell was taking him so long. Mycroft knew better than to leave her cooling her heels. She hated to be left with nothing to keep her occupied. Knowing Mycroft, the man was probably taking his time just to irritate her. "Well," she thought "two can play at that game." Getting up, Sandrine proceeded to spend a very enjoyable hour rearranging Mycroft's possessions.

Dusting off her hands, Sandrine looked around the room in satisfaction. "Let that perfectionistic personality of his deal with this mess." she laughed to herself.

And what a mess it was. The bookshelves had their contents strewn haphazardly across the floor. The desk drawers were taken from their home and emptied also before being stacked against the far wall, creating a rough pyramid. The pens, papers and other paraphernalia created an overflowing mountain on the seat of the swivel desk chair which now rested in the center of the room. Only the filing cabinets alone made it out unscathed. Picking their locks was not worth the effort in Sandrine's mind for what was only a minor prank.

Downing the last of her tea, Sandrine turned towards the sound of the door handle being turned, her hand automatically going to the small of her back where her gun resided.

Mycroft stepped into his office with a look of disdain for the disorder found there. "It is just me. Unless you were planning on shooting me, might I suggest you put that away?" He questioned with a pointed look at the Firestar 9 mm that was aimed for his head.

Shaking her head Sandrine holstered her weapon. "I'd apologize, but I don't see any reason to be sorry. Being quick on the draw is what keeps me alive most days."

"Anyway Mikey, how about we discuss why I'm here?"

"How many times must we go over this? Mycroft. Mycroft, not Mikey. And as for the reason I asked you here, I need you to debrief me on the status of your current assignment. Since you refuse to turn in concise reports at regular intervals, calling you here seems to be the only semi-reliable way to get any useful information from you." Mycroft answered her with a huff.

"Aww. If I didn't know better I'd say you were worried about little ole me. Isn't that sweet? I didn't realize you cared that much Mikey." Sandrine teased Mycroft with a little laugh. "Anyway, I did send in a report, what was it two weeks ago?" she asked knowing full well it had been at least six months since she last filed a physical report. After all, why waste valuable time writing when she could just tell Mycroft?

"Seven and half months actually. And even then I wouldn't call it a report. It was completely incomprehensible. It consisted of nothing more than.."

"Written in code" Sandrine interjected with a barely contained smile.

"...Mikey loves Rinee. In multiple languages. Repeatedly." Mycroft finished."Pray tell. How was that code?"

"Still haven't figured it out yet? I'd wager that's driving you mad isn't it?" Sandrine taunted lightly. "Fine." she sighed, failing to get a rise out of him. "I guess I've held it over your head long enough. Just look at the spaces and punctuation. It's morse code. Double space between words for long. Single space for short. Period indicates end of sequence. For instance; double double double period equals S. Simple as that really."

"If I had to guess, I'd say you only overlooked it because you were flustered. Gods forbid anyone think you suffered from sentiment." she said with an over exaggerated shudder at the word sentiment.

Mycroft cleared his throat, "Not that this interlude hasn't been entertaining but lets steer this conversation back onto course shall we?"

With a look around her at the disheveled room, Sandrine replied "I'll let you change the subject for now Mycroft. But only if we can have a change in venue. There's no place to sit down in here."

"And who is responsible for that I wonder?" Mycroft stated dryly. "Although you do have a point." Mycroft added as he looked around himself at his office, "Where would you suggest we adjourn to?"

"I know the perfect place. Come with me love." She said as she took his hand and pulled him from the room. In her haste to leave Sandrine barely avoided colliding into Mycroft's assistant Anthea. The lovely dark haired woman, anticipating her boss's needs, stood at the ready with the duo's jackets and Mycroft's umbrella.

"Oh I'm sorry Anthea, here let me take that." Reaching for her and Mycroft's things, " I'm afraid I left the office in a bit of a mess."

"Not to worry, Miss Dumorte." Anthea said with a slight frown before turning to Mycroft, "I'll see to it that it's set to rights before your return. I've got a car waiting for you out front..."

"No need for that, where we're going is within walking distance" Sandrine interrupted before Mycroft could get it into his head about taking the car. "Besides it'll do his pompousness here some good to stretch his legs. Sitting behind a desk all day must get tiresome I would imagine." And with that she promptly started tugging Mycroft towards the exit.


	4. A new assignment

**A/N: Many thanks to my godsend of a Beta; Thischarmingpsycopath. I have no idea what I'd do without her. Also thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read. Hope you enjoy, and please feel free to let me know what you think.**

Mycroft sat in the well appointed Italian restaurant silently fuming. Ten minutes into Sandrine's little "jaunt" it had started raining. Under normal circumstances this wouldn't have proven a problem, London weather being what it was Mycroft always carried an umbrella. But thanks to the insufferable woman currently sitting across from him, his umbrella was now in the possession of a young tourist couple from America. Meaning he was now soaked. A state he found rather untenable.

And just to add insult to injury, the bloody woman had the gall to be laughing at him. "Had you just let us take the car, we wouldn't currently be in this predicament" he told her, letting some of his ire show. "Really Mikey, lighten up. It was a bit of fun. And the state of your clothes is hardly worth getting worked up over." Sandrine replied, smiling brightly. "Besides, we'll be dry by the time we leave. Our coats took the brunt of the storm."

Mycroft debated whether it would be worth the satisfaction of starting an argument, or if he should just table the topic for now, after all he did have a more pressing matter to discuss with Sandrine. Her idea of fun aside, he couldn't afford to risk her leaving. And leave she would. Damn woman never admitted she was in the wrong, she would simply stop arguing and leave. An irritating habit to say the least.

Fortunately, the matter was decided for him as the waiter came up to take their orders and fill their drinks. Handing over their menus Mycroft proceeded to order for both of them. An order of shrimp alfredo for himself and the chicken parmesan for her.

Thanking the man as he walked away, he turned his attention back to Sandrine, who was shaking her head and smirking. "Are my eating habits that predictable?" she asked. "I feel like I should be offended over you ordering for me."

"I'd estimate that we have roughly twenty to thirty minutes before the waiter returns. And I'd rather not discuss the details of your next assignment whilst we're eating. So if you do decide to be offended, would you mind greatly if I asked you to wait till after our meal?" Mycroft asked with a sardonic smile.

At this Sandrine burst out laughing. Not many understood Mycroft's rather dry sense of humor, but Sandrine always managed to get the joke. Truthfully she was the only person he did joke around with.

Once her laughter subsided Mycroft proceeded to give her a brief rundown of her next objective. He marveled at the way her eyes lit up at the prospect of a new challenge. The bloody woman thrived on the dangerous situations he managed to come up with for her. It never ceased to amaze him how she could to live day to day doing what she did, yet still remain relatively carefree and blissful. He knew the job took some form of toll on most of his agents, yet Sandrine never seemed affected. He only hoped that she could keep her innocence intact. Even though innocence hardly seemed the correct word it fit nonetheless.

Shaking his head Mycroft, brushed aside that train of thought. "As always I leave the details up to you. You've never followed my directions anyway, I don't imagine this time would be any different." he finished. Just in time as well, since the waiter had now brought out their meals.

Unfolding her napkin and placing it in her lap, Sandrine took a moment to contemplate the task ahead of her. "Mycroft, you always get me the best presents." she decided with a smile.

Turning to lighter conversation, the two finished their meal. Lingering over dessert, Sandrine turned the subject to Mycroft's brother. "How's Sherlock doing by the way?"

Looking pensive for a moment "As well as can be expected I suppose. The doctors have said it's going to take a while for his body to detoxify. I can only hope that once he's on the mend, he'll find a different form of stimulation. There has to be something that can keep him occupied and away from that disgusting habit." Mycroft replied.

"Well I have a few ideas on that score. Plus, I think you'll find once Sherlock is released from rehab he's going to have to find a new drug dealer."

"Yes, I had noticed the man had turned up dead. The police have written it off as a drug deal that went wrong. Your work I take it?" Mycroft asked.

"I do what I can. Consider it a late birthday present." Sandrine answered with a shrug. Truthfully she only wished she could do more. As little as Mycroft was willing to show it, he was still hurting over the path his brother had chosen. However, she knew that Mycroft wouldn't take lightly to her "interference" as he liked to call it. Due to his addiction combined with the nature of her work, Sandrine had never ben afforded the opportunity of meeting Mycroft's younger sibling. However, if she had her way about it she would have already threatened the man into toeing the line. But ultimately that would upset Mycroft even further, and Sandrine had no wish to make things worse for him. So she settled for taking out Sherlock's main source.

As their server took away the remnants of their Tiramisu and brought their check, Sandrine looked somberly at Mycroft, "You do realize though, this will be the last I see of you for a long while? We're going to have to keep communications to the bare minimum as well. How are you ever going to survive without me?"

"I have the utmost confidence I'll be able to handle life without you." Mycroft stated as he rose . "I also get the feeling that you'll manage to find ways to make my existence miserable as always, without actually being there."

"That sounds like a challenge Mycroft." Sandrine pulled on her coat, "Now I'm forced to think of something so you won't miss me too terribly." Giving Mycroft a light hug he didn't return, she kissed his cheek " Take care of yourself and I'll check in when I can." With no more to say, she walked out of the restaurant and into the busy streets of London.


	5. Planes, Plaints, and Plans

**A/N: Let me ****start off by thanking my amazing Beta: thischarmingpsychopath she has been absolutely wonderful. Thanks also to everyone who takes the time to read I hope you enjoy. And as always the usual disclaimer I don't own Sherlock et al. **

**Just to be on the safe side I'm going to put a trigger warning here for detox, and implied suicidal thoughts. Please skip over the second section if you wish to avoid. **

At an altitude of thirty-five thousand feet James was sitting in first class, mentally refining his plans for his newest account. China's Black Lotus Tong. They were looking to become one of his more lucrative business ventures.

Soon growing bored James's mind inevitably turned to the question of his mysterious sniper. His men had uncovered nothing more than a business card, courtesy of Arun, the Myanmar operative who had hired Moran in the first place.

Sebastian Moran

+44 20 7927 0909

sebmor

Appointment by referral only.

_The incompetent fools_, his mind spat. James refused to believe the man couldn't be found. No one was better than him. He would find Moran and the man would suffer. Of course, James wouldn't kill him. Anyone who could elude him for this long could prove to be useful. Besides, why break a new toy immediately after you've gotten it?

Opening his laptop, he set about drafting an email to the elusive Moran. After all if he couldn't go to the sniper he would bring the sniper to him.

A few hundred miles away, Sherlock Holmes thrashed about the hospital bed he was currently strapped to. His skin felt like it was on fire, and no amount of movement could put it out. He just needed one hit, just one, morphine, cocaine. "ANYTHING!" he screamed to the room. But there was no one there to hear his shouts. His body dripped in a fever induced sweat as it tried to expel the toxins that had taken up residence in his very cells.

Momentarily forgetting his restraints, he tried to curl up on his side. Sobbing now, he begged for release. Even death was better than this burning. "Please" he whispered, voice hoarse from the fruitless yelling. "Please, just make it stop." Finally, his body exhausted from battle, Sherlock drifted off into a fitful slumber. Even in dreams the fire seared his skin, making him toss and turn.

Mycroft watched as his brother finally got some much needed rest. The process of detoxing was unfortunately a long one. Shutting down his laptop, Mycroft contemplated Sandrine's parting email.

_Mikey, he needs a diversion. He's never going to give up the habit unless you distract him. He's like you and me. Boredom is not a good thing. As much as you dislike it, Sherlock is your intellectual equal. Don't shake your head at me, I can see you doing it. So stop it. Trick's going to be finding the right thing for him to latch onto. It may come down to switching one rush for another, but anything is better than the abuse he's putting himself through._

Considering the rest of the email irrelevant for the time being, Mycroft thought his way through the problem. The minutes passed as he discarded possible solutions. Finally it came to him.

Calling Anthea into his office, Mycroft began laying out the groundwork for what was soon to be his brother's new occupation.


	6. Cleaning, computers and code

**A/N: As always, many thanks go to my amazing Beta thischarmingpsychopath. Not only a great beta but an extremely talented writer. Take the time to check out her work, you won't be disappointed. Thanks also to those who read and decide to follow, I hope you enjoy. Oh and I don't own Sherlock et al. That honor belongs to Gatniss and Moffat who currently have them on loan from Anansi, who all stories belong to. **

Someone was in her room. _Why the hell do they even try?_ Rolling over to the side of her bed , Sandrine kept up a pretense of slumber. Even breathing, little movements of the leg. _One of these days people will come to the realization I dislike being woke up._ Slowly she reached for the gun hidden underneath her pillow. _Wonder what he? She? No tread's too heavy...he. Wonder what he's looking for. Hasn't made a move towards the bed yet...I'm not his primary objective. Good to know. Ahh. There we go. Bad boy. Going after my laptop is he? Tsk tsk tsk. Amateur._

Deciding enough was enough, Sandrine gripped her Firestar and rolled off the side of the hotel room bed. Coming up in a crouch, she used the bed as cover as she aimed for the thief who had the insolence to wake her up.

"So did you find what you were looking for?" she asked conversationally. "I really hope it was worth it to your employer. Who is your employer, by the way? I'd like to send my regards."

"I'll be sure to tell them, as you'll be _indisposed_ shall we say? " the thief said, his own gun trained on her forehead.

_Eyes on the midsection Rinee. Focus. You'll see it coming. There._

Even though her gun was fitted with a silencer, Sandrine heard the resounding gunshot like thunder had clapped in the room. Getting up, she went over to the now prone body of the thief. Crouching down, a quick examination told her all she needed to know. _Poorly fitted suit, low end material. Trying too hard to look professional weren't you? Suit also says you weren't expecting a struggle. Either misplaced overconfidence or you and your employer both believed the lie. Maybe a bit of both. No back up weapon. Gods you really were an amateur weren't you? That narrows things down considerably. _

Knowing there wasn't any possibility of sleep, Sandrine sighed as she got dressed. _Gods be damned, I'm gonna have to clear this little indiscretion up myself. Can't call Mycroft to have a team come in, that'll blow my cover. All I need is a few hours. I can take care of this mess, finish what I came here for and be on a flight back to London by midmorning tops. How in hell did they figure out they needed to send someone after my laptop anyway?_

Checking the room's peephole to make sure there was no one about, Sandrine exited the room and made her way to the staff supply closet at the end of the hall. Swiftly she gathered the items she required and headed back to her room. She needed to be done and out of the hotel before the world woke up. There wasn't much time to do what was needed, but there was enough.

Stripping the bed of it's blankets and sheets, she remade the bed before promptly unmaking it again. _Can't leave skin cells and hair for the police now can we? Only hope anything on the floor gets attributed to shoddy vacuuming by lazy maids. Wish I could risk the noise... oh well. _

Leaving the body where it lay she opened up her laptop and hacked into the hotel's computer network. Sifting through the computer code, she exchanged the information on file for her hotel room for one of her throw away aliases. _This whole venture better be worth this much effort. Does nobody understand how much effort it takes make up an entire life for someone who doesn't really exist? Hours. It takes hours, and now I have to sacrifice Carl Howard like he was a pawn. Requiescant in pace Carl._ At this point Sandrine realized she was whining but didn't really care. It was two o'clock in the damn morning, anyone would be, she rationalized.

Casting Carl to the four winds, Sandrine backed out of the hotel's registration and accessed the security mainframe. Planting a virus that would erase the last two week's footage was a matter of moments for her. All that was left was erasing all traces of her presence and breaking into the main office to procure the hard copy of the footage. Gathering up her clothing and personal items, she tossed them into her duffel bag.

Taking out cleaning supplies Sandrine quickly set to work wiping away her fingerprints, as well as any stray skin cells and hair follicles. Emptying out the trashcan she grabbed everything up and left her room for the last time.

Dropping the used bedding and cleaning supplies back off in the supply closet, Sandrine pulled out her burn phone and dialed the front desk. Making her way to the stair case she started heading down to the lobby as she dialed. The front desk answered on the third ring. "Hello this is the Sheraton. How may I be of service?"

She pitched her voice a few octaves higher as she spoke, and silently begged forgiveness for using the hysterical woman stereotype. "Oh thank goodness. The toilet is overflowing and it won't stop... You need to come up and fix this now. It just won't stop. It's completely ruined my things. Why won't it stop? You need to make it stop. The floor has like two inches of water on it, its heading into the bedroom. Make it stop."

"Ma'am I need you to calm down please. Just take a deep breath. Now what room are you in?"

"I'm sorry it's just really late and I've already had a really bad day. I'm Jenny Malcolms and I'm in room 704. Please can you come take care of this?"

"I'll be right up, with maintenance and we'll get you moved to a new room while we're at it. We'll get this sorted out for you. Don't worry, I'll also arrange for any clothing to be laundered. Give us about 5 min to arrange a new room for you and we'll be right up."

"Thank you so, so much. I'll start getting what's not ruined together." Hanging up Sandrine continued to make her way to the ground floor.

Peeking around the door and seeing the way was clear, Sandrine sprinted to the office door. Using the key card she had nicked the first day of her stay, she slipped into the room. Glancing around she found the surveillance equipment and took out the cd used to store the video feed. For good measure she took the last 7 day's discs as well. Knowing she didn't have much time left, Sandrine left the hotel and didn't look back.

Once she was outside of her rental car, which had been stowed a few city blocks away, Sandrine took out the battery and sim card of her cell. She made sure to crush all three underneath the heel of her boot until she was sure they were beyond redemption. Climbing into the dark blue Prius Sandrine pulled out of the parking garage and onto the city street. _Well that takes care of that. Now on to Crawford. Just get into her office, get what I came for, and get out. No time to leave a pointed message. As much as you want to, do the smart thing. Think about Mycroft. He'd be so disappointed._ At that thought Sandrine burst out laughing. While she and Mycroft never outright discussed her... extracurricular activities, she figured he knew. After all, she made no effort to hide them from him. _He would be disappointed though... at least by the directness of what I've got in mind. Mycroft has always been more subtle than me_.

This particular extracurricular activity had brought Sandrine to New York City after some sensitive documents that were in the possession of one Ann Crawford. Crawford, a CEO for Starcorp a company that was employed by the pentagon for various military research projects. She unfortunately had the audacity to be in an extramarital affair with one of the pentagon's top officials and blackmailing him.

Jackson Carter had hired Sandrine to destroy the compromising photos. Sandrine had applied as Crawford's personal assistant; read secretary. She had been living at the hotel for the last fortnight after being hired on, while she located the pics. Fairly easy in and of itself. Crawford kept the flash drive containing them in her desk drawer, not exactly the best hiding spot. No, what had taken her the two weeks was setting up a backdoor in the company's computer code. Sandrine's true objective was the information stored on Starcorp's hard drive.

The untimely arrival of the thief, meant only one thing. Crawford knew something was off. _Woman's smarter than I gave her credit for. That amateur was after my laptop. She's not sure it's me. Sent him for proof. Poor fool got more than he bargained for._

Shaking off her speculations, Sandrine pulled her car into Starcorp's parking garage. Pulling into a spot on the first level, she shut off the ignition and grabbed her security id from the glove compartment.

Taking her time she walked into the company's headquarters, flashing her id at the night security guard. "Gina, it's barely five in the morning what are you doing here so early?"

"Morning Phil." Sandrine answered with a faked yawn. "I left some paperwork unfinished when I left Friday... can't let Miss Crawford down. She's gonna need it for her meeting this afternoon. So I figured I'd come in early to get it taken care of."

Punctuating her speech with another faked yawn she continued "That and it'll get me out of here on time for my doctor's appointment later."

At this Phil chuckled, "Well when you put it that way. There's some fresh coffee in the break room, grab a cup before you start. You look about ready to fall over."

Smiling at the older man Sandrine told him, "Can't stand the stuff you know that. Quit trying to convert me. I'll pop over to Starbucks and get some tea after they open. They couldn't brew a decent cup if they were being held at gunpoint but I'm betting by that time I won't care."

Outright laughing now Phil waved her on "Can't blame me for trying. Just try not to fall asleep at your desk."

"Thanks Phil. Have a good day if I don't see you before you leave." Picking up her pace Sandrine hurried to her office, working quickly she pulled on her gloves and booted up the computer at her desk and started the program she had created that would download the information she needed. While the program did it's job, Sandrine took out her lock picks and went to work on Crawford's office door.

_Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. For someone who works for the government, and is blackmailing someone at the Pentagon, you really don't have very secure locks Ann._ Feeling the last cylinder click into place, Sandrine turned the handle and swung the door open. Heading to the mahogany desk, she pulled open the right drawer and grabbed Crawford's flash drive. _Gods. She doesn't even lock it up. This whole venture has been one big let down. BORING. Mycroft better like his present. When he gets it that is. Maybe I'll save it for Christmas._

Shaking her head, Sandrine went to check how far along the download was. _Three-quarters. Not bad, I'll have to work on it when I get some free time, see if I can't make it faster._ Satisfied with her progress, she headed back into Crawford's office. This time instead of riffling through desk drawers, she took a few precious minutes to embed a couple of lines of code on her soon to be former boss's personal computer. Code that made it so the next time the computer was booted up all of the company's research, as well as all of the security and personnel files, would be erased. _Gotta love the bigger companies, no hardcopy to worry about. Everything is saved on the internet or hard drive._

Back by her desk, Sandrine double checked to make sure there were no traces of her to be found while she waited. Growing bored she started spinning in her desk chair seeing how fast she could get it. She only stopped when she heard her computer ding, signaling that the program had run it's course. Grinning now, she proceeded to take apart the tower so she could retrieve the motherboard and the information stored within. After putting what little was left back together, Sandrine stuck her prize into her purse.

One last look to make sure she wasn't forgetting anything and Sandrine was heading back out the front doors with an "I can't believe I left the reports I took home behind. I'll be back in about thirty minutes Phil" to the slightly confused night watchman.

An hour and half later, Sandrine found herself sitting comfortably in one of Heathrow airport's Starbucks, sipping a horribly brewed tea waiting for her flight. Her laptop in front of her she pulled up one of her many email accounts. After jotting one out to Carter detailing the conditions of the return of the flash drive, she pulled up the inbox for another account. Sifting through them she came across one in particular that caught her attention.

_Well. Well. This makes things slightly easier. Looks like I won't have to hunt you down for Mycroft after all. You seem to have found me_. Perusing the contents, Sandrine made a few quick deductions that caused her to smirk._Trying to play cat and mouse with me are you? Isn't that cute. This is going to be fun._


	7. A meeting of minds

**A/n: Hello all you wonderful people. As always I'd like to thank my amazing Beta thischarmingpsycopath. You should all go read her story Love Interruption it's wonderful as well. Usual disclaimer I don't own Sherlock et al. That honor goes to Anansi who all stories belong to. Does anyone know where I can find that trickster monkey? Anyway I hope you enjoy. Feel free to review and let me know what you think.**

George had only been working for James Moriarty for six months. During which he had seen many things he wished he hadn't.

Bodyguard duty was a boring job for certain, but George preferred it to some of the more unsavory tasks he'd been dealt in the past. He longed for the simpler days of petty larceny, small time cons. He had taken the position offered to him because he had thought the benefits would outweigh the cons. And while there were certain things the Boss looked down upon, there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to his moral code. If you were to ask George he would tell you the Boss was insane. Brilliant, but insane.

So when his current partner Michael spotted a young woman wandering around the area, he knew that the day was going to add to his list of things he'd rather un-see. Walking up behind her, the woman gave a shriek of fright as he caught her arm in a tight grip and flashed his gun.

"Be very quiet and do as your told, you just might walk away unharmed." George told her. Nodding her head very quickly, she made little fuss as he dragged her back to the building where the Boss was waiting.

Walking past Michael, George only sighed as the other man grabbed the woman's ass. "Maybe the boss will let us have little fun with her. You think?" he laughingly commented as he followed the pair into the building.

Disgusted George told him "Leave her alone. We'll let the Boss decide what to do with her."

James stood looking at the pitiful woman in front of him. Taking in her blond pigtails, the camera round her neck, and the abject fear she was positively radiating he couldn't help but smirk. "So who do we have here?" he asked with a slight tilt of his head.

"Caught her wandering around outside. Poking around. Taking pictures. What do you want us to do with her Boss?" one of his enforcers Dan...or was it George, asked. James could never keep any of their names straight. What was the point? They were all so interchangeable... so replaceable.

Stepping towards her James lifted the camera from around her neck. Flipping through the digital interface, all he found was art photographs. Nothing of him or his men. Only pictures of the surrounding docks, the water, and some of the more derelict buildings in the area. "Well, it looks like you've caught an artist boys."

Bored already, James turned his attention to his phone as he pulled it out of his pocket. With a negligent flip of his hand he barked an order to his men "Kill her then dispose of the body. Do it quickly, our guest should be arriving soon."

Turning his back, he didn't see the pigtailed woman's expression change from the absolute terror to a self-satisfied little smile.

Sandrine took the opportunity afforded her. With her target's back turned, she threw the full force of her weight into the solar plexus of her would be captor. His grip on her arm loosened as he doubled over, gasping for breath. Grabbing the gun from his holster, she fired off two shots in rapid succession at the cretin who had wanted to play with her. Even before he hit the floor, Sandrine was on the move again. A hard rap to the back of the wheezing man's head with the butt of the gun had him dropping like a stone, out cold.

Pointing her gun at James who had by now turned around at the unexpected noise, she smiled.

"Sebastian Moran. I believe you've been waiting for me? Oh and be a dear. Take your hand off your gun and then raise both arms in the air slowly." she demanded.

Raising an eyebrow, James reluctantly complied. "So you're Moran. Not quite what I expected to tell you the truth."

"You and everyone else." Sandrine replied. "So since you're currently being so truthful, how about you tell me what you were expecting. I'm curious." Reaching into his suit jacket, she pulled the concealed gun from it's holster. Tucking it into the waistband of her capris she patted him down for further weapons.

"Up a little higher love." James smirked down at her as Sandrine checked for an ankle holster.

Her turn to raise an eyebrow, she asked "Really? That's all you've got? I'm sad to say I'm highly disappointed." Shaking her head at him as she rose "It's a pity that a supposed criminal mastermind is reduced to innuendo as a diversionary tactic. I would have thought you could do better."

Stepping back from him Sandrine spoke again. "You can lower your arms now. So, where were we? That's right you were about to tell me what you were expecting."

"Is it really that important? You have the upper hand and this is what you choose to talk about?"

Sandrine just shrugged "Always leave them guessing, do the unexpected. And once again speaking of expectations... You were saying?"

Exasperated now, James gave in "Fine. Fine. Obviously I was expecting a man. Someone taller. From the background information I could find, which I see now has been falsified, some scarring along the jaw. Someone less irritating." he paused at Sandrine's laughter "And I thought you'd be a ginger. Satisfied?"

"Hehehe... You...Hahahahaha... you..."

"I what?" James asked flatly.

Her laughter subsiding she admitted "You actually got one right." Sandrine reached up and pulled off the wig she was wearing, revealing her short ginger tresses. "What made you think ginger though?" she asked as she tossed aside the blonde pigtails.

"No reason." His eyes followed the path of the wig before he glanced back at Sandrine "Not that this hasn't been mildly entertaining, but could we move this along a bit? I did have other plans for today."

"I'm sure you did." Sandrine smirked. "However, as pleasant as being tortured sounds, I'm afraid that's been struck from the agenda. I should thank you though. Your little obsession made my job a lot easier."

"Job? Is the part where you kill me?" James mocked. "I take issue with that. For a sniper you certainly are taking the up close and personal approach."

"Nope. Wrong again. I'm seriously starting to doubt that the mastermind status you're trying to achieve is ever going to be within reach." Sandrine chided. Taking in the slight bristle her words caused she continued. "Touchy subject? Well no worries. With my help, I'm sure you'll attain it soon enough."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Here's my proposal. You need a second in command. Someone to help keep your men in line. Someone brilliant. Someone skilled. I'm everything you could hope to find. Now, I'll give you a day or two to consider of course." Walking towards James she pulled out a business card. "Be at this address at the date and time I've specified and we'll go over my terms." Sticking it into his breast pocket, she patted it before turning her back to him and walking away.

Calling out to her James asked "What's the catch?"

Smiling over her shoulder Sandrine replied "I work for the British government." Blowing him a kiss she sauntered through the doors out of sight.


	8. Kings and Knives

**A/N: I would like to start off by apologizing for the unexpected delay of this chapter. There really is no reason for it as I have been sitting on it for two weeks. However the latest chapter was giving me difficulties so I decided not to even look at this story until I had cleared my head. Including editing so I could post. So once again for anyone looking forward to reading this I am sincerely sorry. Also All the thanks go to my amazing Beta thischarmingpsycopath. You all should go show her some love and read her story Love Interruption. And as always I own nothing...All stories are Anasi's. Hope you enjoy, let me know what you think. Oh and for RockintheRedhead, I'm glad you're hooked. +}**

James wasn't entirely sure why he was meeting with Moran. The woman was intriguing certainly. But a temporary relief from boredom wasn't worth his newly founded empire. Yet here he was, waiting on a bench in front of an art gallery of all places, for that irritating woman. And she was late.

Keeping himself busy, he took out his phone and sent off a few emails to various clients. _Idle hands make for the Devil's playthings._

"Penny for your thoughts?" Not recognizing the voice of the woman who had sat next him, James glanced up ready to scare her off. Instead he was greeted by the sight of Moran_. An accent? Why? And people think I'm crazy._

Not giving voice to his thoughts he only commented "You're late."

"I was having fun watching you work." She shrugged, unapologetic. Switching back to her normal voice, "Really though, what were you thinking? You had this devilish smile on your face." Her own smile faltered a bit when he bit out a short laugh. "What? Tell me."

Relenting James told her "The idle hands quote."

Understanding the joke, Sandrine laughed as well. "Ah." Slapping his thigh lightly, she stood. "Well, come along then. We should get started." Following her lead James stood as well and offered his arm.

"So explain to me why this is a good idea. After all, I'd be a fool to let the British Government have any access at all to my... business proceedings." James said as Sandrine looped her arm through his and they headed into the gallery.

_Gotta give it to him, from Mycroft's description, I was expecting mostly rough edges._ "Just look at your options James. Can I call you James? Moriarty seems a little... stiff for what I have in mind." Sandrine asked before continuing. "You have two options. Make me your second in command or I kill you."

Walking around the gallery's displays arm in arm still, James commented. "It's Jim. I only use James for clients. And you're forgetting option three love." Leaning in close to her ear he whispered, "Option three is where I torture you to the point where you're begging me for death, and then I leave your lifeless body as a message to your employers. After all I owe you for ruining my deal with the Afghani faction. You should feel honored. I don't usually get my hands dirty." He felt the slight shiver that went through his companion's body at his words. _Was that fear? Or something else?_

No longer whispering he continued, "At the risk of repeating myself, explain to me why I should hire you."

Sandrine recomposed herself from the thrill that went through her at Jim's words_. I wonder if he can really uphold that threat. If there weren't so much riding on this, I'd love to know which of us is truly the cat and which is the mouse. Who knows? It may just come to that._ Stopping in front of a blown glass piece, she disentangled herself from Jim's grasp. Circling the piece, she studied the fiery center as she contemplated her next move in their verbal match.

"As you know I work for the British Government. What I mean by that is I work for one man in particular. He likes to act like he's just a lowly official, but he wields more power than most wouldn't even dream of." At this Sandrine looked up from her contemplation of the art in front of her. "Present company excluded of course. The man I work for has been contemplating getting a hand around the heart of the criminal element for a while. I'm the means he chose to do so."

Silently watching her, Jim motioned for her to continue. "Originally I wasn't going to tell you, but through our emails, I decided on a different approach. You're entertaining, and it's so hard to find anything to keep me occupied for long periods of time. I think playing both sides will prove a challenge. I can be useful to you, and in return you let me slip information to my other employer."

Sandrine shrugged as she moved on to a different piece that caught her eye. "I have several aliases with contacts that will help you expand this little empire you're attempting to build. Moran just being one of them. I can be anything you need. Sniper, assassin, hacker, thief, spy...I can do it all."

"I can also give your men the training they desperately need. From what I've seen they are sorely lacking in discipline. They have no real chain of only thing keeping them in line is their fear of you."

"Speaking of my men. Why kill one but not the other? That was a fairly stupid move. So why?" Jim asked her.

"It was a stupid move." Sandrine replied. "But I wasn't about to kill one of the few men in your employ that has a set of morals. Call me lazy, but I don't want to start completely from scratch. That and the other cretin you had with you had the temerity to grab my ass. I don't suffer fools to live, and he was a fool."

Moving in close to Sandrine Jim growled at her. "Start from scratch? Are you so certain I won't just kill you?"

Smiling at him Sandrine replied "Of course I'm certain. I've been observing you. I'm sure you've realized that. You're hardly going to pass up the opportunity presented to you. A chance to work with only minor interference from the government. We aren't looking to stop you completely, my employer would rather have someone in charge who he can deal with. Sort of a devil you know situation. Think of yourself as Hades and my employer as Zeus. You would reign in the underworld. While he keeps law and order in the world above."

"And where do you fit in this myth my dear? Persephone perhaps?" Jim taunted, his gaze boring into Sandrine's own.

"No." Sandrine shook her head. "While I have several roles to play, she's not amongst them. Being Queen, especially of the underworld would never suit me." Grinning she teased, "Although I must say I'm flattered. One meeting and you already want me to rule at your side. Men are so easy."

"And I suppose you think you know the way to our hearts?"

Closing the short distance between them, Sandrine placed a hand at the back of Jim's neck and drew his head towards hers till their breath was mingling with each others. "Of course I do. Six inches of steel." she whispered, her eyes locked with his.

Jim felt the pressure of the blade Sandrine had pressed just under his rib cage and angled up towards his heart. Not enough to pierce through his suit and rend his flesh. Not yet. But the promise of blood was there just under the surface. Leaning into the blade he pressed his lips to Sandrine's ear. "Name your terms."

Stepping back as she released him, the corner of Jim's mouth turned up into a slight smile. Watching her smoothly conceal her stiletto back under the sleeve of her blouse, he idly wondered what other weapons she was hiding. _Gun at the small of her back for certain. Possibly another blade or two tucked into her boots._

Noticing Jim cataloguing her weaponry, she held out her wrist revealing the wire wrapped around it. "You missed one. Now. As for my terms, first and foremost I want the right to decline any assignment I find... repugnant. Also, I get cart blanche in training your men. With the option to get rid of whoever I see fit to. If I'm going to have to work with others, they are damn well going to be people I marginally trust to watch my six."

"Additionally, while I will be at your disposal for the most part, I expect to be given leave to work on any of my side projects. With advance notice of course, so they don't clash with any of your objectives." Sandrine stated, heading off a possible objection from Jim. "I'll keep communication with my other employer to a maximum of once every three months. However if something comes up that I feel he needs to know about sooner..." She shrugged. "The two of you can work out your machinations against each other, I'm sure some sort of arrangement can be worked out to the benefit of both parties."

"Salary?" Jim asked her. "And make it every six months."

"Four. As for my salary, I'll leave that up to you. I'm interested to see what you think my services are worth. Don't disappoint me." Looping her arm through his again she smiled at him. "Now, since business is out of the way tell me what you think of this painting over here."


	9. Sleeping accomodations

**A/N: I feel like I should again apologize for the long wait for anyone who has been looking forward to reading the latest chapter. No excuse really other than a bout of laziness when it comes to editing. However I plan on making it up to you with two chapters this week instead of just one. Forgive me? Many thanks to my friend and beta thischarmingpsychopath. And as always all stories are Anansi's.**

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><p>The tones of Invader Zim's Doom song could be heard throughout the hotel room Sandrine was attempting to get some sleep in. Attempting, because for the seventeenth night in a row, Jim was texting her in the middle of the night. <em>I'm going to kill him. He's as good as dead.<em>

Reaching to the night stand for her cell, she blearily eyed the clock next to it. The digital face read seventeen minutes after three. Not even bothering to read the text, she dialed Jim's number from memory. Laying back on her pillow, she rubbed her eyes as she waited for him to answer.

"About time, I've sent you three texts already. Tell me what you know about Arthur Seville." Jim snapped out after the second ring.

Sighing to herself Sandrine decided it was time to draw a line. "No."

"No? Need I remind you that you work for me Seph?" Jim purred into the phone, his voice deceptively calm.

"No, but _you_ apparently need to be reminded that I require sleep. If I have to go one more night without a good solid six hours, I'm going to fucking kill you Jim. Consequences be damned. Also, how many times have I told you not to call me Seph? What's wrong with Moran? Or Seb even? You know what? Never mind. It's too early to get into that with you again. I'm going back to sleep and I'm turning my phone off. I'll call you when I wake up."

Jim started to reply but was cut off with an irritated "I'm hanging up now." followed closely by the sound of silence on the other end of the line. Staring at his phone he couldn't believe she had hung up on him. Dialing her number, he found that she was true to her word. His call went straight to voice mail. Huffing a little bit he pulled up the GPS tracking code for her phone.

A month into her employment, he had given her the cell with express orders not to destroy it, he had been getting very irritated at her use of burn phones. Seph's overly cautious leanings caused him no end of difficulties when trying to get ahold of her.

He had to admit he enjoyed playing with her like this. Testing her limits, seeing how far he could push her. Making up tasks that absolutely had to be taken care of immediately, at all hours of the day and night.

Three months of late nights and sporadic hours and this was the first sign of irritation she'd shown him. Not that he'd let her know but he was marginally impressed. Not many could keep up with him for this long. Not only was she keeping up with his demands on her time, but she still managed to find time to train the men in his employ on a daily basis.

She had culled the group of thieves and gunmen he had hired with ruthless efficiency. Winnowing down his men from the twenty he had had to a mere seven. Although, from what he'd observed, the woman could replace all of them with just herself.

Jarred out of his musings by the vibrations of his phone, he looked down at the screen. _Got you_. Rising from his desk, he went to his closet and shrugged into a jacket before leaving his flat.

Twenty minutes later, Jim found himself outside a cheap motel. Frowning a little, he wondered why she was staying here of all places. He knew she could afford better lodgings, so why here? Shaking his head a little, he let himself into the building. A quick search of the unmanned desk gave Jim Seph's room number.

Picking the lock to her room, he stepped inside and shut the door as quietly as he could manage. Moving towards the bed, he was sent to floor by a kick to the back of his knees. Sweeping out a foot he knocked his unseen opponent over. Grappling in the dim room Jim managed to pin his assailant to the floor underneath him. One of his hands wrapped around the person's throat, squeezing lightly.

"Seph." He growled, adrenaline deepening his Irish lilt. "What the hell?"

Grabbing the hand wrapped around her neck and hooking one of her legs around his she shifted, using her momentum to roll them over. Straddling him now, Sandrine laughingly told him "I figured you'd try something like this after I told you no. So... I laid in wait behind the door. You should know better, always open the door fully. Am I going to have to start including you in the daily training sessions as well?"

Breaking the lax hold Jim had on her, Sandrine stood up and offered him her hand "Up you go. Come on we're going to get some sleep." Maneuvering Jim towards the bed, she gently pushed him down onto it. Seeing his smirk, she shook her head at him. "Get your mind out of the gutter. I was serious about killing you if I don't get some sleep. Just because I can function on small amounts of sleep doesn't mean I choose to do so."

Walking around to the other side, Sandrine crawled into bed beside Jim. "Now it's your choice if you sleep or not, but I would suggest you do the smart thing. Let me sleep and get some yourself. You've been running yourself ragged trying to break me with your little game. I can see the signs of exhaustion. Please be sensible? It's only six hours. Whatever it is can wait that long."

Jim paused at the pleading tone Seph's voice had taken when she asked him to be sensible_. Was that concern? No. Couldn't be. She's only using me, same as I'm using her. People like us don't make attachments to others._ Searching her face in the dimly lit room, Jim wasn't sure what he was looking for. "As if I'll be able to sleep in this rat infested excuse of a room. What in the world possessed you to stay here in the first place? Why not get a flat? It's not as if you're constantly traveling." Jim found himself asking.

"It is rather horrid isn't it? But if I stayed in the upper-class hotels all the time, it would be too much of a pattern. As for a flat... too easy to be found. And while I could handle anything that comes my way, it's easier to just avoid any possible confrontations. I keep a couple of different storage units around the city to store clothing, spare artillery, fake ids and the like. I'll admit it would be nice to be able to have a space of my own though. But that's one of the downsides of the life I've chosen." Mentally cursing herself, Sandrine decided to blame her slip into camaraderie on lack of sleep. _He is not, nor ever will he be, your friend Rinee. So quit with the personal info. Not even Mycroft knows you want a place to call home. Well, he may have figured it out, but still... you never outright told him._

"Can we go to sleep now?" Sandrine asked as Jim stared wordlessly at her. _The Irish bastard is probably trying to figure out how to use that against me. _Without waiting for an answer from Jim, Sandrine rolled onto her side giving Jim her back. _Let him sleep or not. I don't care. _She attempted to lie to herself. _Who am I kidding? Please, get some sleep Jim._ Closing her eyes, she drifted off, concerned about the man next to her.

Jim continued staring at Seph's back after she had drifted off. He was sure that her little slip had been unintentional. He had seen the way her eyes had widen just a touch after she had told him about wanting her own space. Sighing to himself, he knew that no work would be getting done that night. Pulling out his phone, he made a few quick searches before setting his alarm. Making himself comfortable on the narrow bed, he let himself succumb to slumber.

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><p>The next morning Sandrine found herself alone in bed. Glancing at the clock, she realized she had slept longer than anticipated. <em>Eight hours, I can't remember the last time I got that much sleep. I'm surprised Jim didn't just wake me up after six hours exactly. And why did he shut off my alarm?<em> Grabbing her phone, she decided to ignore her inner voice asking her why she hadn't even stirred when he left. That was a train of thought best left to derail. Turning her cell back on, she got up and made her way to the dingy bathroom to ready herself for the day.

After her shower, she stepped into the bedroom and rummaged through her duffel bag. Picking out a black t-shirt and jeans, she dressed and armed herself. _Time to stop by the storage unit, I'm getting sick of the same outfits. That and I need to refill my magazines. I'm down to two full ones._ Brushing her hair into a stubby pony tail, Sandrine packed up her stuff and went to check out of the motel. _No way am I staying here another night._

The next item on her agenda for the day was a quick breakfast. Not a meal she normally ate, but if Jim was going to be leaving her alone for the time being, she was going to take the opportunity to actually eat a decent meal. None of this grab and go she had been doing. It wasn't healthy.

Stopping at a café that offered Wi-Fi for it's customers, Sandrine enjoyed a leisurely meal for the first time in months. While she ate she kept herself busy on her laptop. After all Jim would still be wanting information on Seville. So she did what she did best, and compiled a file on the man that she could send to Jim.

As she was finishing her meal, her phone went off. Another text from Jim. This time a location to be at, instead of a demand for information. Wondering at the change in priorities, she laid some cash on the table, enough to cover her meal and a generous tip, and left.

Making her way to the address listed, she noted it was in a well to do neighborhood and wondered what task Jim could have for her here. Assessing the highrise, she waited for her instructions. Not for long, as Jim soon sent her another text, a flat number. Getting into the building was easy. She only had to play the damsel in distress card to one of the male occupants. _Oh, I'm so sorry to bother you. But could you possibly buzz me in? I'm trying to surprise my Grandmother, her birthday is coming up. Oh, thank you so much!_

Outside the flat in question, she wondered what her objective really was. She couldn't quite figure out what Jim had her doing here. It didn't make sense. Testing the door handle, she was less than pleased to find it unlocked. _Only the innocent forget to lock their doors._

Opening the door completely, she stepped in to find an empty flat, devoid of furniture. Nothing. Confused, she wandered through the rooms searching for some reason Jim would want her here. There was nothing until she stepped into the kitchen.

Waiting there for her on an island countertop, was the fiery blown glass piece she had admired her second meeting with Jim and a key. Attached she found a note.

Seph,  
>I thought this piece suited you better than that ugly painting you were going on about. Consider it a house warming gift. The title for the flat is under Persephone Williams. Maybe now I'll be able to find you when I need you.<br>J.M.

Staring at the paper in her hand, Sandrine wasn't sure what she should be feeling. Her head was telling her accepting the gift like it would lead to nowhere good. Yet she couldn't quite still the other voice telling her to seize what was being offered with both hands. Just what that was exactly she wasn't sure, and she had the feeling Jim didn't know either.

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><p>Jim stared at his computer screen, the finished plans he had made for a few clients waiting to be sent off. Lost in thought, he wondered why he had bought Seph a flat. He told himself it was so he knew where to find her. But that wasn't quite true.<p>

He had wanted her to be happy.

The flash of pain he'd seen in her eyes when she had confessed to wanting her own space. It had seemed like a trivial thing at the time, something to scoff at. But he hadn't been able to bring himself to laugh at her. Instead, after she'd fallen asleep, he'd searched for something appropriate that would suit her. After finding a couple of candidates, he'd set his alarm for early so he could have things sorted out before she woke up.

That was an another thing, he had actually slept next her. Woken up next to her. The image of her lying next to him, close, almost reaching out to him, well it was seared into his mind. It was not something Jim ever did, yet it had seemed natural at the time. _The damn woman's a menace. What game is she playing?_

Maybe he should kill her before this got out of hand. No. That would be admitting weakness. Let her think she has the upper hand. _I never lose._ Besides she _had_ proven useful. His empire had grown tremendously in the three months she had been working for him.

He ignored his ringing phone in favor of returning to work. It was only Seph at any rate. He could deal with it later.

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><p>Sandrine stood in her new flat exasperated with Jim. <em>Won't even pick up the phone so I can thank him. And possibly find out what game he's playing now.<em> The thought that it maybe wasn't... wasn't worth bearing. So, as with anything else uncomfortable, she pushed the thought away.

After retrieving her duffel bag and suitcase from her car, she set about making a list of what she would need for her new home_. What a strange word._ A bed for starters, while she could and had slept on hard ground before it wasn't preferable. _Dishes? Do I even want to try my hand at cooking? Maybe it'll be an adventure. Sheets and bedding for certain. Do I really need anything else? Towels, can't forget towels. Bathroom supplies... how the hell do normal people do this? Maybe I should be dragging Jim along for this. It's all his fault anyway._

Half of her was tempted to trash it all as a bad bet, while the other half was giddy with excitement_. I'll have to find a way to thank Jim._ Looking around her newly acquired flat Sandrine let herself admire the possibilities for a moment, before moving on to practicalities.


	10. New Faces

**A/N: As promised another chapter! Again Thank You to my beta thischarmingpsychopath. If you haven't yet you should check out her story Love Interruption... Go on this chapter will be here when you get back. And of course I can't forget my usual disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock... All stories are Anansi's. Thank you all for taking the time to read this and feel free to let me know what you think.**

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><p>"This wasn't part of our agreement Sherlock," came the tones of Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. "You get access to the cases I call you in on, no others." He knew it was pointless to argue but some things you just had to do regardless of whether the outcome was predetermined or not.<p>

The DI had come across the brilliant man during Sherlock's recovery at St Bart's Hospital. The man had wandered from his room to the lab of Molly Hooper, a pathologist at the hospital. Molly was a little cowed by Sherlock's presence, Greg had never seen her act like that before. Almost like a love-struck teenager. She could barely form coherent sentences and stammered a bit when she did. It was a bit adorable really, but Greg would never be so cruel as to call her on her little crush. If she wanted to talk about it she would, if not he would ignore the signs.

As for Sherlock, he had been engrossed with a specimen under a microscope when Greg had come round to ask Molly about the results from an autopsy she'd performed earlier that week. The man had not even looked up from his task and yet he had informed the detective that his case was a murder and then proceeded to give him a break down of how it was done. Needless to say, Greg had been impressed. Less so when he found out why Sherlock was in the hospital in the first place.

Greg, while not as clever as Sherlock, liked to think he did have a few brain cells knocking about in his head. He never would have risen as far as he had if he didn't. No, he may not have Sherlock's brains but his talents lay elsewhere. Greg's ability to see and understand the people he interacted with had served him well over the years. And what he saw in Sherlock was a man looking for a way to deal with a lack of sensory input. In other words a man trying to stave off boredom.

Greg didn't know what it was like to have Sherlock's level of intellect, but he understood the need to find something to focus on. Since the man seemed to find some measure of relief in working out the hows behind the deaths that crossed Molly's autopsy table, Greg offered him a deal. Stay clean and Greg would call him in to consult on some of his cases. Sure it was a little unorthodox, but less so than the Americans calling in psychics or whatever it was they were doing nowadays.

That had been a few months ago, and Sherlock seemed to be doing well. He had somehow managed to wrangle unlimited access to Molly's lab and morgue, whether that was due to the man's obstinacy or his charms, Greg couldn't quite tell. The man had more than his fair share of both traits.

Case in point, Sherlock was currently ignoring Greg's protests concerning his involvement in the apparent murder of one Miss Lorelei Gaudi. "Look, Sherlock, its a fairly open and shut case. There's no reason for you to be here."

Shooting Greg a look that plainly stated he thought otherwise, Sherlock continued his inspection of Miss Gaudi's remains. Pulling out a small compact magnifying glass, he bent down to examine the corpse's fingertips, muttering to himself.

Sighing, Greg turned to Anderson, one of the forensic technicians "Let him finish up, then have them haul the body to St. Bart's. Better let them know to have Molly do the autopsy as well."

Walking out to his car, he found Sally Donavon by the entrance to the apartment building "I'm heading back to the Yard, can you wrap things up here?"

"Is the _Freak_ still inside sir?" Donavon asked him. "I still don't think it's a good idea to let him into the crime scenes like this..."

"Donavon, how many times do we have to go over this? He's helped us close several cold cases, stopped us from incarcerating an innocent man, twice I might add, and our division has had the highest percentage of arrests since he started consulting for us. Now, finish up here and I'll see you back at the Yard." Turning from her, Greg continued to his car, forestalling any further complaints.

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><p>Molly Hooper had been in her lab when Sherlock Holmes had first swooped in. Clad in a hospital gown, he had promptly taken over her lab station, ignoring the small squeak of fright Molly had given at her personal haven being invaded so abruptly. Her attempts at evicting the unwanted intruder were met with a dismissive smile and an order to bring him a few clean slides for the microscope. A charmingly worded order but an order nonetheless.<p>

Rather than calling for security, Molly let her curiosity get the better of her and fetched the unknown man the glass slides he required. Silently, she watched him work as he conducted an experiment. It wasn't until one of the nurses from his floor came looking for him that Molly worked up the courage to ask his name. An irritated "Sherlock Holmes" came his reply.

He was back the next day, again taking up a position at the microscope. And so the days had went, the two of them settling into a comfortable rhythm. Slowly Molly learned more about the man who made himself so at home in her lab and in her morgue.

Eventually guilt got the better of her and she informed her boss Mike Stamford of her visitor. It was with trepidation that she waited for his response, only to be told not to worry. Some government official had called in a favor and Sherlock was to be granted access to whatever he needed.

Eventually Sherlock had been released from the hospital, and Molly had assumed his visits would stop. Happily she found her assumption proved wrong when, after a week or so of relative peace around her lab, Sherlock had once again resumed his place at her microscope.

Molly found Sherlock's brilliance to be intimidating and she never knew exactly where she stood with him. Whenever she tried to hold a conversation with him, he was dismissive of what she had to say. "Irrelevant" was an often heard term for her.

She berated herself to no end, cursing her own inability to form a coherent sentence when he was around. She didn't know if it was the combination of his brilliance and his good looks, or if she was suffering from an episodic bout of idiocy whenever he was around, but she was a smart brilliant woman in her own right. And yet she turned into a stammering mouse whenever he was around. Despite this, he would not work with any of the other pathologists employed at St. Bart's. Nor would they work with _him_. All except Molly, who had no problems dealing with his temperament and eccentricities.

And that was why she was here on her day off. Having received a call from Mike that Scotland Yard was having a body brought in that needed her attention, she immediately knew it was for a case Sherlock was working on.

Resigning herself to what would surely be an evening of her making a fool of herself, Molly changed into a pair of scrubs as she waited for the body and Sherlock to arrive.


	11. Meetings and Machinations Pt 1

**A/N: Hello all my lovely readers. I have come to the realization that I am a chapter hoarder. I've had this one sitting and waiting to be published, but I wanted to get a few more written before I posted it. Add in the fact that I'm also a slow writer and suddenly a month has passed. So my apologies if any one was anxiously waiting to read this. Many thanks to my beta thischarmingpsycopath. And as always I do not own Sherlock et al. That honor belongs to Anansi as all stories are his. Anyway, again sorry for the wait I hope you enjoy. Oh and kudos to anyone who gets the book reference. Please feel free to let me know what you think.**

Sandrine stood in Jim's office, leaning over his shoulder to type away at the laptop sitting on his desk._Would it be so hard to get up and let me sit down? This is ridiculous._ "Gah. I can't do this." Yanking the power cord out and swiping it off the desk, Sandrine gracefully folded herself into a cross legged position on the floor. With her back to the desk, she set the laptop on her knees and got back to work.

The clacking noise of her fingers flying over the keyboard filled the room as Jim silently stared at her as she worked. "I can hear you thinking Jim, so either use your words and spit it out, or leave me be so I can get this done. I _do_ have other things that need to be done today." she told him not once taking her eyes off the computer's screen.

"I have a client meeting this afternoon, Seph. You're coming with me. Scoot." he replied as he moved to open the drawer she was leaning against. "Cancel your plans. Olympus will have to wait."

"Nope" She answered quickly, her lips popping the p. "Not going. I've put it off for the last two weeks as it is. Not again." Looking up at Jim her slight smile turned serious. "Besides... I want to know how he dealt with the mice I smuggled into his office."

"Mice? I'm almost afraid to ask."

Grinning she told him "Well. I couldn't let him forget I exist now could I? So...I may have set a few absolutely adorable white mice loose in his office."

"How many is a _few_?"

"Somewhere in the vicinity of a hundred. I was originally planning on making it closer to a thousand, but it was a task just getting in the ones I did. I didn't want to hurt them."

Chuckling Jim just looked at her for a moment. "You kill people for a living, but you didn't want to hurt a few mice? How is that logical?" Shaking his head a bit "Regardless, you need to cancel."

Ignoring Jim, Sandrine took her time finishing before closing the laptop. Rising from the floor, she set the computer back on the desk in front of Jim. "If you really need me at this meeting, push it back to this evening. I am {not} rescheduling again, besides after lunch I have to meet with a C.I.A. operative whose gone rogue, she's got a good shot and we could use her. So either take George with you, or reschedule. Simple as that."

Jim adjusted his cuffs "We? Do you mean you and Zeus? Or did you mean you and me Seph? It's hard to tell whose interests you're serving at times." he growled.

"If I didn't know better Jim, I'd say you were jealous. As for my interests... those lie solely with myself. In this case however you benefit as well."

"Fine. Enjoy your lunch. But as of 8 pm this evening you're mine again. Wear something distracting." Getting up Jim walked over to where his suit jacket was hanging on the wall. Pulling his phone out of the inner pocket he gave Sandrine a once over "Red, preferably lowcut. With any luck Seville will be too entranced to negotiate properly."

"I guess I'll add dress shopping to today's agenda then. Will you be picking me up? Or am I meeting you back here? At the restaurant perhaps? Send me a text when you decide." Sandrine said with a bit of disgust. _Seville is a pig. Jim is doing this as payback isn't he? All because I told him no. Grow up why don't you?_ Making her way over to the door she was surprised when Jim grabbed her wrist before she could open it.

His fingers curled tightly around her, applying a pressure that added to the menace of his words. "I don't need to remind you of what happens to those who betray me, do I?"

Sandrine rolled her eyes at him before responding. "Enough with the dramatics. You don't scare me. Now let go of my wrist before I break yours."

"Who's being dramatic no...ooow fuck!" Jim was cut off as Seph grabbed his thumb and yanked it back forcefully. The hold he had on her wrist broken, Jim laughed as his arm was bent behind his back and he was shoved into the wall. "You're so easy to rile up love. It almost takes the fun out of it."

Letting go of his arm Sandrine took a step back and took a deep breath as Jim turned around to face her. "One of these days Jim you're going to push just a little too far..."

"And I'll be sure to direct your anger at a more appropriate target. Seville perhaps?"

"If you want me to kill Seville all you have to do is ask. None of this wear something to distract him bullshit to piss me off. The man is slime. No, he's worse than slime. He's the amoeba that feeds on slime."

"Where's the fun in that? Anyway I need him alive. For now that is. Now, get going before I change my mind and keep you here." Walking back to his desk he called out to her before she shut the door "By the way love, the dress wasn't for Seville. It was for me. Distracting Seville would have been a nice bonus."

Shutting the door behind her, Sandrine made her way out of his apartment. For the first time in a long time she wasn't sure how to react. Deciding to not think about it she cleared her mind before starting her car. _Can't let Mycroft see me like this. I'll never hear the end of it. What is Jim playing at? I know that he's been less on guard this last month, but I never thought... What the hell? Okay Rinee. Enough is enough, you'll figure this out later, Mycroft is waiting._

* * *

><p>Mycroft was indeed waiting for her when she arrived at the tucked away restaurant where she had last seen him. This time not unhappily covered in rainwater. Smiling when she saw him, she took a seat across from him. "I still think we should be feeding the ducks in St. James park."<p>

"Maybe for your birthday, I'll consider it. Foolishness that it is. You should really find more suitable reading material."

"Something to look forward to then. As for my choices in reading material, you're a book snob Mycroft. And we'll just agree to disagree. I refuse to get into an argument when our time together is this limited. So tell me, did you enjoy the gift I left you?"

"And you say you don't wish to argue."

Whining a bit just to annoy him "Pleeease? Tell me? It was glorious wasn't it? I bet it was glorious. I hope Anthea got it caught on camera like I asked?"

Letting out a small huff of indignation Mycroft replied "Unfortunately. And she has the gall to be blackmailing me into giving her an extra two weeks of vacation. I tried to have all the copies found and erased. I was... unsuccessful." With a pointed look at Sandrine "It would seem someone has been giving my assistant lessons in subterfuge."

"Maybe you'll keep this one around then? I like her. She's got a sense of humor, unlike someone I know that I'm not going to mention." Pausing in her teasing as the waiter brought out a tray bearing their meal. "Ordering for me again Mycroft? One of these days we are going to have to have a talk about this habit of yours." Unfolding her napkin into her lap she continued "Although I will admit you _do_ manage to always order what I'm craving."

"It's my superior intellect, I'm afraid." he replied with a slight smile as he picked up his fork. "Now. Report please."

"Moriarty is more intelligent than your initial information led us to believe. He's quite capable if a little unpredictable. Driven. Has a vindictive streak in him, but prefers not to get his hands dirty. However he is not above dirtying them if he feels the situation warrants it. His network is diverse, and has grown exponentially in the last four months. I'd say given another six months or so and we will have expanded well past England's borders. He already has a toehold in China, but negotiations with Afghanistan were set back when the sniper Sebastian Moran took a hit out on Kontar Gul."

Pausing to take a bite of her lasagna, Sandrine searched Mycroft's body language for any reaction to the name. Not seeing one she continued on "Currently we are working on an arrangement with Arthur Seville, a major arms dealer that bases here in London and has major ties in Serbia. All in all I'd say eventually we will have a world wide network, and I'll be able to gather any intel you may need to prevent any major incidents. So long as we let him continue to work mostly unhindered he's agreed to let me have the access needed to provide you with the intelligence {you} require."

This revelation caught Mycroft off guard. He could only stare at Sandrine as she took a couple of bites of her meal. Bringing his hand up to rub at his temple, he asked her "You told him you work for me? When did you become so sloppy? Really my dear I had thought better of your capabilities."

"What? You said yourself I could handle this how I wanted. Better to tell him upfront than for him to find out about it later when it might have a detrimental effect. Besides I didn't drop your name, O Lowly Government Official. Code name is Zeus. I thought you might enjoy that."

"Zeus? Compared to some of the other code names you've deemed appropriate, this is possibly the tamest."

"You said the same thing about Puppet Master, if I recall correctly." Pausing she took in Mycroft's expression of disbelief. _Not good. Got to be bad if it's shaken Mikey._ Slowly she reached for her gun, taking note of the few other diners before slightly turning in her seat to see what or rather who had discomfited Mycroft enough to cause his usual calm façade to slip.

* * *

><p>After Seph had left Jim had managed to at least call Seville and reschedule for a dinner meeting. The man had only relented when Jim had mentioned an extremely fashionable restaurant as their meeting place. It helped that the establishment in question was extremely hard to get reservations made at. For all the man tried to pretend he wasn't impressed with Jim's connections and power, he was easily swayed by displays of wealth. Scoffing as he hung up the phone, he started making contingency plans for when he could have the man dispatched. <em>Maybe I'll give him to Seph as a gift.<em>

Leaning back in his chair he drummed his fingers along the armrest. Smiling to himself Jim planned his next move regarding Seph. While this new game of theirs was a fun distraction it was time to up the stakes as it were. The ease and sense of camaraderie he had been carefully cultivating seemed to be working. He knew he had the upper hand right now, you had to be looking for it to see it but she had been surprised by his comment about her wearing a dress for him. When this was all said and done she would be working for him and him alone.

Time to stake his claim.

* * *

><p>Mycroft had chosen the restaurant after careful deliberation. Though he would never admit it to Sandrine, she had for once found a restaurant well suited to his tastes. Upscale enough to suit his usual mode of dress, yet discreet enough to be able to hold meetings. It helped that the food was superb.<p>

Checking his phone he wondered where Sandrine was, other than late of course. He knew if he were an outside observer it would look like he was worried. But that was of course absurd. Sentiment was beneath him. What need did he have to worry over Sandrine? She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She had proven that time and time again. Yet still he checked his phone.

It was with some relief that his phone chirped with an incoming message. Signaling the waiter he placed an order for Sandrine and himself, with strict instructions not to serve the meal until she had arrived.

It surprised him how much he had missed their light banter, it wasn't until she was seated in front of him teasing him about his assistant that he realized even he had the basic human need for companionship. _You're turning into a fool Mycroft._ Turning his full attention back to the matter at hand he demanded her report after their meal had been served.

He silently watched Sandrine as she related what information she had. He chuckled internally at the mention of one of her aliases. Little did she know some of the hits sent her way had been by him. It was useful to have someone he could trust in a position to take care of certain things that he couldn't be seen having a hand in. _I'm not going to confirm that I know about Moran and you know it. Why try?_

He did have to admit he never would have thought Sandrine of all people would have given up her connection to the government without a thought. Her precautionary nature bordered on epic proportions. Yet here they were discussing that very fact.

"Zeus? Compared to some of the other code names you've deemed appropriate, this is possibly the tamest." Mycroft said. Taking his eyes off the woman before him, his eyes scanned the room automatically. _Some habits never change._ To his surprise the current topic of their discussion had walked in through the doors and was headed straight to his and Sandrine's table. He realized something of his surprise had showed on his face as Sandrine reached for her gun and scanned the room for civilians before turning slightly to take in Mycroft's line of sight.

Schooling his expression once again, he noted the look of confusion on Sandrine's face as she saw who had garnered Mycroft's attention. He also noted the relaxing of her posture when she realized who had come to join them. _Interesting. She trusts him enough to let down her guard. Or is that only an act? No. She practically lit up when she saw him. Seems our little girl is a bit smitten. I've warned her about sentiment. I don't see this ending well. Maybe I should reassign her?_

"Hngmf." Mycroft snorted a little bit as he rose to greet his new guest. "Moriarty I presume? Please won't you join us?" he asked, his tone cool as he gestured to the table. He managed to not raise his eyebrow when the man slid into the booth next to Sandrine and promptly put his arm around her shoulders. Resuming his seat he inquired "We've only just begun our meal I can call a server over if you'd like?"

"No need. I only popped in to say hello and meet the man who holds such a high place in our Persephone's regards." Jim said as he toyed with the ends of Seph's hair. "It's always a good idea to meet the opposition."

"And here I thought we were allies of a sort. After all you do have one of my best agents working for you now."

"Ahh, but that's just it, she's not mine. Not really, if she's reporting to you now is she?" Jim took in the countenance of the man sitting across from him._He doesn't seem to be getting it. Do I need to spell it out for him?_ Standing up from the table he looked at the man Seph had proclaimed as Zeus. "I plan to steal her from you just so you're aware. It's never any fun if the other players don't know the game."

Leaning into Seph's ear he whispered "Don't forget to find time to go shopping love. I'll be very disappointed otherwise." Smirking a bit he grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, his breath ghosting over the back of it before pressing a light kiss. "I look forward to dinner this evening." he told her before sauntering out of the restaurant.

Raising his eyebrow at Sandrine, Mycroft waited for her to comment. Instead he was treated to a slightly dazed look on her face, her mind apparently elsewhere. Knowing he wouldn't be able to get her attention for a while as she sorted through her thoughts he commenced eating his meal, pausing now and then to see if she had shaken off her reverie.

For her part, Sandrine sat there staring at nothing, her focus inward as she sorted through the data stored in her head. _Think. Think. Think. Ground zero. Need a starting point. My flat. The art piece. He changed slightly after that. More open behavior, less secretive. Casual touching, light banter... was that all...flirting?_ Shaking her head slightly, Sandrine brushed away the uncomfortable thoughts swirling in her head. Now was not the time for introspection. Her eyes once again focused on the world around her, Sandrine noticed that Mycroft had finished eating and her own plate of food had grown cold.

"Well?" Mycroft asked as she pushed her plate away from her.

"I don't know what to make of it Mycroft. If I had to put a name to it, I'd say he was courting me. In a weird, twisted sort of way that is. It's a game to him I think. He's rather fond of them. If I had to hazard a guess, my loyalty to you is a challenge to him. By luring me away from you he wins." Sandrine mused.

"How do you plan on handling this, if I might ask? I'd hate for you to turn on me without advance notice." Mycroft deadpanned, hiding a slight smile when Sandrine burst into bright ringing laughter.

"I'll be sure to give you twenty-four hours notice Mikey. I promise. As for how I plan on handling this..." Sandrine shrugged. "I plan on going shopping."


	12. Meetings and Machinations Pt 2

**A/N: Oh look. An update that didn't take me a month to post... anyway, hope you enjoy. As always, thank you to my awesome beta thischarmingpsychopath. Oh. Cant forget the usual disclaimer, it's becoming almost superstition at this point. I of course do not own Sherlock et al. that honor belongs to BBC, Gatniss and Moffat. And Anansi as all stories are his.**

Sandrine lay in bed, having been awoken by the sunlight filtering through the curtained window. A fact that worried her greatly, though she wasn't sure why. Sitting up, she pushed the covers off her body, glancing down she found herself naked from the waist up.

Wrapped around her torso, was a blood soaked bandage.

Idly poking at her ribcage Sandrine glanced around at her surroundings, her mind too unfocused to do more than wonder at where she was. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed she made to stand up when the door opened, and a man dressed in a well-cut suit walked in carrying a glass of water.

"I should have known. I leave for twenty minutes, and you try to get up. Lay back down Seph." he said. Remembering the water he held, "Wait, drink some of this first." The bed dipped as he sat next to her, causing Sandrine to fall against his side. Lifting the glass to her lips, the man looked silently on, waiting for her to drink.

Taking a few swallows, she asked "Who are you? Where am I? And why am I covered in blood?"

Setting the glass down on the bedside stand the man muttered under his breath "I told that fool of a doctor not to give you those meds." Louder he answered her, "You'll be less disoriented when the painkillers in your system wear off, you'll remember everything then. For now just go back to sleep. The doctor will be back in a few hours to change the dressing on your wound, so get some rest." When she made no move to listen to him, he stood up and grabbed her legs. Manuevering her around, he pressed lightly on her shoulder until she was on her back. "You may as well go back to sleep. I'm not about to let you out of that bed."

Sitting in a chair that had been placed by the bed, he picked up a laptop that had been scooted her stare at him, he only raised an eyebrow at her. Deciding she wouldn't be getting any answers anytime soon, Sandrine closed her eyes and willed herself back to sleep.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Change of plans. New meeting location. 46 Hendon Lane. Same time. Ask for Williams.-SM<strong>_

_**After Dark? Why are we meeting at a dress shop?- M**_

_**Personal reasons. Is that a problem? It's public enough. No need for you to worry.-SM**_

_**I already promised you wouldn't be harmed. -SM**_

_**I'll be there.-M**_

* * *

><p>"Miss Williams? Your friend is here. Should I send her in?" the shop's attendant asked through door of the spacious dressing room.<p>

"Hmm? Oh. Yes, go ahead." Sandrine replied as she stood in front of the provided mirror. Twisting and turning she admired the cut of the crimson sheath she was wearing. Behind her the door opened and in walked a petite woman with a short cap of bleached blonde hair. Sandrine watched in the mirror as the woman did a quick but thorough survey of the room before shutting the door behind her.

"I didn't think Sebastian Moran would have a woman working for him. Or anyone for that matter. He's rather notorious for working alone." she stated without preamble. "So Death is a woman? Who would have thought?"

"No one. People's misconceptions about gender come in handy when you're trying to hide your identity. It's saved my skin countless of times. I'm sure it's done the same for you."

"I don't think I've taken quite as far as you have, but yes it has come in handy at times." Extending her hand she said "We haven't been properly introduced. Mary Collins. And what should I call you? Sebastian hardly seems appropriate."

"Seph is fine. It seems to be what everyone is calling me nowadays anyway. I am curious though...Death?" Sandrine asked turning away from the mirror and shaking Mary's hand with a grin.

Smiling in return Mary answered her unspoken question "The Red Death to be exact. You have quite the reputation. I was surprised when you requested a meeting, almost didn't come but..." she shrugged "Curiosity won out. To that end... why _did_ you request a meeting?

"Have you heard of James Moriarty?" Sandrine asked Mary, her eyes trained for any reaction.

"The criminal underworld's newest up and comer? Yeah. Are you hiring me to take a hit out on him? Little odd for an assassin to be hiring another assassin if you ask me. Which makes me think there's more to this." Mary replied, wondering where the conversation was leading.

"Absolutely correct. I work for him. Bit of a long story. Suffice it to say I'd like for you to work for us, we're willing to pay twice what you made working for the CIA. I've seen your handiwork, we could use your skills. Currently I'm the only sniper Jim's got, and unfortunately I can't be everywhere I'm needed at once. Then there's your medical training to take into account. Probably the only skill set you surpass me in come to think of it." Sandrine mused "Either way the job's yours."

"And if I don't take it?"

"We both know you'll take it. So why ask? You won't make nearly as much on your own. You've got your own people after you now. Hard to find assassin work when there are people hunting you. Tracking you. You need the safety we can provide. Face it Mary, you're on the run and need a safe harbor. I can set you up with a new identity. Wipe the old you off the face of the earth. Who knows?" She said with a slight shrug. "You may even live to see retirement."

"Well, when you put it that way... when do I start?" Mary asked resignedly. _Her straightforwardness is rather refreshing after all the smoke and mirrors._

"Right now actually. You can help me pick out a dress." Sandrine said turning back to the mirror. "Not this one for certain. Do me a favor and have the shop girl grab some floor length ones while I get out of this monstrosity. Red only please." Seeing the look of confusion on Mary's face she told her "It's never fun clothes shopping by yourself, and I'd be a fool to pass up the opportunity. While you're at it there are two screens in here, grab a couple to try on yourself. It'll be fun. We can even go shoe shopping afterwards." She wheedled with a wag of her eyebrows.

_This woman is ridiculous._ Unable to help herself Mary burst out laughing. "Fine, but I'm having them grab a couple black ones for you as well, it'll go great with your hair color."

* * *

><p>Several dresses later and Sandrine had found the one. The floor length, one shoulder dress was reminiscent of the Grecian chitons according to the shop girl. Sandrine didn't have the heart to tell her it was nowhere near what Grecian clothing would actually have looked like. The dress did however suit her purposes. Standing in front of the mirror Sandrine admired the way the black silk clung to her upper torso and how it flowed loosely over her hips and down her legs ending at her ankles. Cocking her hip revealed the slit that started mid thigh, the best part of the dress in her mind, a feature that made concealing a weapon feasible if she walked carefully.<p>

"It's perfect. All I need now is a pair of killer heels." Sandrine told Mary as she stepped out from behind her screen wearing a sapphire colored cocktail dress. Turning to look at her "You have to get that one, it's gorgeous on you."

Rolling her eyes "You've said that about the last three I've tried on Seph. Although they did look good didn't they?" She finished with a crinkle of her nose. "So that's it, eh? I got to admit the red embroidery on it just gives it a little extra something. So what's the occasion anyways?"

"Bit of a long story. Suffice it to say I'm going into battle this evening and I need armor. Now what do you say we go purchase these? I know a great shoe store, just down the street actually. We can head there next."

* * *

><p>A couple of hours after they had left After Dark, Sandrine walked into her flat burdened with several bags filled with the efforts of her excursion. Humming to herself she kicked the door close behind her. Shopping with another woman had been a welcome change from her usual lonely sprees. <em>Maybe we can do it again in the future?<em>

Once in her room she dropped her bags onto the unmade bed before heading into the spare bedroom where she kept a small arsenal. Pulling a thigh sheathe off the wall she grabbed the stiletto that went with it and headed back to her room. After a quick shower, she styled her hair and added a few light touches of eyeshadow and mascara. The only thing left for her to do was get dressed, walking into her bedroom she swiftly stepped into the black lace undergarments she had chosen to go with the dress.

It was as she was attempting to zip herself up that she heard her front door open. Grabbing her gun from the holster attached to her headboard she eased into the hallway, her back flush with the wall. Peeking around the corner she let out a breath of relief when she saw it was only Jim.

"I don't know how you got in, but since you're here, help me zip this thing. I didn't take into account I would be alone when trying to get dressed." Walking towards him she stopped and gave him her back, waiting for him to help her. _Let the games begin._

* * *

><p>Jim let himself into Seph's flat, hoping to catch her by surprise, he had spent the day searching for the next move in their little game instead of working. His newest playing card was carefully concealed in the inner pocket of his Westwood suit.<p>

Glancing around he noted the changes she had made since the last time he had broken in. She had moved the sculpture he had bought for her yet again, it seemed to always be in a different spot. He smirked a bit when he saw her step into the living area. Taking in the sight of her dress, he couldn't help but compare her to a warrior goddess with her gun in her hands. _Maybe I should start calling her Artie instead of Seph. Better not, she might actually enjoy that comparison._

"I don't know how you got in, but since you're here, help me zip this thing. I didn't take into account I would be alone when trying to get dressed." She told him, giving him her back. _Two can play at that game my dark goddess._ Trailing his fingers lightly down her bare back towards the zipper, he painstakingly drew it closed before placing a light kiss on the back of her neck.

Feeling her shudder under his touch, he whispered in her ear "If you were aiming to have all the men tonight worship at your feet, you may have overshot your goal. That dress is fit for a goddess." Pulling out the box he had concealed in his pocket he reached around Seph so she could take it. Resting his hand on her waist he waited for her to open it.

* * *

><p><em>Damn he's good.<em> Sandrine couldn't stop her body's reaction to his touch, the way his fingers lightly skimmed down her back and then slowly back up again, the press of his lips to the back of her neck. _You brought this on yourself Rinee. Pull yourself together. You're better than this._

Thinking to pull away she was stopped by Jim handing her a slim velvet covered box. _Jewelry? Classy move, I'll grant him that._ Trying not to be distracted by the feel of Jim's warmth radiating at her back, or by the heavy weight of his hand on her waist, Sandrine opened the box to find an intricate choker necklace. Made of tiny silver skulls, from far away it wouldn't be apparent what the necklace consisted of, it was only when you looked closely you could tell.

Pulling the chain from it's nesting place, she turned her head to Jim. With a slight smile on her face she told him "It's gorgeous, help me with it?" As he took it from her hands, she felt a slight thrill run through her as he undid the clasp and wrapped it around her neck, the cool metal warming against her skin. Turning towards him after his hands had dropped to her shoulders, she placed a light kiss on his jaw. "Thanks."

Needing to put some distance between them Jim backed up a step "You're welcome. We should get going though."

"Not until I put my shoes on." Heading back into her bedroom she sat at the edge of her bed and slipped on the red strappy heels, purchased for the occasion. Jim stood in the doorway, silently watching her every move. He started a bit when she asked him "So other than me, is anyone else coming along as a bodyguard? I can't bring a gun with this dress. I'll be lucky if they don't catch the knife I've got hidden. Arm candy doesn't usually go around armed to the teeth." Flashing the stiletto she had strapped high on her upper thigh, she noticed Jim lick his lips. Surely an unconscious gesture.

"No one. Just you and me love. Well, and Seville and one of his men."

"Tell me you're armed." She looked at him incredulously when he didn't answer her "Jim. _Tell me you're armed._" Marching over to him she opened up his suit jacket not finding a holster she gave him a quick pat down while he laughed at her. "Jim we are not going into this with only a fucking stiletto between us. I don't trust Seville any farther than I could throw him. Less than that even. Stay here. I should have an adjustable holster that will fit you. And take off your jacket while I get it."

Shaking her head Sandrine left Jim standing there staring bemusedly, after her. _What the hell is he thinking? He's going to get us killed._

* * *

><p>After a short argument about Jim wearing the holster and gun, they finally made their way to the restaurant to meet Seville. Sandrine had a bad feeling about the whole mess. If Jim didn't need this deal to gain access to Serbia she would have put a bullet through Seville's skull weeks ago. Only confidence in her own abilities to see them through stayed her hand. <em>As soon as we no longer need him, Arthur Seville will be meeting an untimely end.<em>

Dinner itself was unpleasant and boring. Nothing but small talk and Seville making crude innuendo towards Sandrine. _Twenty three: Hang him upside down and bleed him like a pig. Twenty four: Castrate him. Twenty five: Bathtub full of acid. Twenty six: Snake pit. Twenty seven: Bed full of spiders._ It was only after the dinner plates had been cleared away by the wait-staff and they were left alone in the private dining room that they finally got down to business.

"And why should I deal with you instead of directly with the Colombians, James?"

"Because they are loyal to me and _won't_ deal with you." Jim replied to Seville in a bored tone of voice. "You want to expand past Serbia, you deal with me. All I'm asking is a small percentage of your profits. It's a reasonable offer. You get a new buyer and I get thirty percent." Interrupted by his phone vibrating he excused himself from the table. Leaving Sandrine alone to deal with Seville.

Getting up from his side of the table Seville took Jim's chair, leaning in close to Sandrine, his hand touched her thigh under the skirt slit. "Now that we're alone, how about you sweeten the deal? Come home with me and I'll give him the thirty percent." Nonplussed by his actions, Sandrine grabbed his hand before it could travel any further up.

"I say no. I'm not a toy to be bought for your amusement." Her tone turning cruel and taunting Sandrine dug her nails into the hand on her thigh. "From what I understand you'll give James the percentage he wants because you have no other choice. Face it. He's outsmarted you. Now please remove your hand." Getting up from her chair she started walking towards the door, hoping to find Jim, when she was grabbed from behind and shoved against the wall.

"I don't take well to being told no. Especially by some two bit hussy who thinks she's better than me. I think it would be a good message to your lover out there if he were to find you in a compromising position when he comes back in. Show him who's the better man, hmm?" Seville said as he slid his hand up her side, causing Sandrine's skin to crawl with revulsion.

_Jim you've five seconds to get back in here or he's dead. I can't hurt him without costing us Serbia._ Looking towards the door her head was forcefully turned back to face Seville. "Now. Now. None of that. I want your attention on me."

Fortunately before Sandrine found herself forced to injure Seville, Jim walked back into the room. "Now where were we?" Taking in the scene before him, he wrenched Seville off of Seph. _Get your hands off her. She's mine._ Not thinking, Jim gave in to the flare of jealousy he felt having seen someone other than himself with their hands on Seph. He knocked Seville flat on his back and pulled the gun Sandrine had forced on him before they had left. Pointing it down at the other man he told him "You ever lay hands on what's mine again and the end of this gun _will_ be the last thing you see."

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><p><em>Gods damn it Jim!<em> Knocking Jim to the floor as Seville's man pulled the trigger of his own gun, Sandrine grabbed her on loan gun out of Jim's hands and fired from her position on the floor. Seeing his body hit the floor, she scrambled up pulling Jim along with her. "We need to go. NOW."

Outside of the private dining area she spared a glance for the confusion and turmoil created by the sound of the gunshot. Opting to take the back exit, she dragged Jim along behind her towards the kitchen area, the gun held close to her side. Keeping her hand in his they made it out the back exit just as police sirens could be heard. "Okay. Looks like we'll have to make a run for it." Taking her stiletto out she quickly slashed her skirt and ripped the bottom half off making it easier to move. Handing the material to Jim she ordered him "Stuff that in a pocket, best not leave anymore evidence than we have to." as she pulled off her heels.

Grinning at him as he took her hand, she asked "Ready?" Taking off at a dead sprint they raced through the alleys and back ways dodging the patrol cars searching the area, not stopping until she deemed them a safe enough distance away to call for George to pick them up. Ducking into a darkened doorway, Sandrine couldn't help the giggle that escaped from her lips. The adrenaline coursing through her seeking any outlet it could find. The reproachful look Jim was giving her only compounded her amusement. _The disheveled look he's got going on right now is kinda hot._ Shaking her head a bit, she pushed the thought aside. _Not the road you want to be going down Rinee. It's just the adrenaline talking._

* * *

><p>Jim couldn't believe she was laughing at a time like this. <em>She's going to get us caught.<em> Since his partner in crime seemed unable to pull herself together, he took it upon himself to call George with the order to pick them up. Relaying their location, he ended the call abruptly when he heard footsteps approaching. Backing Sandrine into the doorway he shielded her from sight. _Can't have them seeing your ripped dress can we love? They might get the wrong idea._

Pressing a finger to her lips to indicate the need for silence, he craned his neck to see who might be approaching. _Just a passerby. No threat._ Turning his head back to face Sandrine he was surprised when she pulled his head in for a kiss. He could feel her fingers threading through his hair as she ran her tongue over his bottom lip, seeking entrance. Growling a bit Jim deepened the kiss, allowing himself to take what he had wanted for months now. _Mine._

Pressed against the cold brick of the building, Sandrine could feel the line of Jim's body against her. This close she could pick up the individual scents that made up the heady mix that was all Jim. The light scent of his soap, the underlying sting of his sweat and something that was undefinable, yet unmistakably Jim. She wanted nothing more in that moment that to feel his lips against hers. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, she gave in to the rush of adrenaline still coursing through her veins and pulled him to her.

Leaving a trail of nips and bites down her neck, Jim attacked her collar bone intent on marking her as his. His hands trailed down her sides until they came to a warm patch of sticky wetness on her ribcage. Pulling back he looked at his hand, covered in her blood. "Why didn't you tell me you were injured?" he demanded in a harsh whisper.

"Probably because I didn't realize I was. It barely hurt, I just thought I was getting a stitch from the running."

Ripping open the side of her dress so he could better examine the wound, he sighed with relief when he saw that it was just a graze and not a through and through. Although the amount of blood she was losing did pose a concern. "I'll call George back, have him get a doctor waiting at my flat. You're losing a lot blood for just a graze Seph."

"I feel fine Jim." Sandrine snapped at him. "It's not the first time I've been shot and it probably won't be the last. Quit worryi..." she continued before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed into Jim's arms.


End file.
